


Must Be Imagining It

by emetophiliacs



Series: Violet&Tate [1]
Category: American Horror Story
Genre: Emetophilia, F/M, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Smut, Vomiting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:41:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23389696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emetophiliacs/pseuds/emetophiliacs
Summary: Ghosts can't get sick...which also means they can't feel better.
Relationships: Violet Harmon/Tate Langdon
Series: Violet&Tate [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1682371
Comments: 3
Kudos: 33





	Must Be Imagining It

**Author's Note:**

> Idk how old the characters are in the original series, but the actors are both reasonably older than me and for the sake of this smut I'm making both characters have hit their mid-twenties before they died.
> 
> Subscribe to Patreon for tons of exclusive and custom content.  
> https://www.patreon.com/emetophiliacs?

Tate had been sitting out back smoking cigarettes with Violet when he first noticed the churning in his stomach. He shivered and slid his hand up underneath his shirt, pressing down and biting into his lower lip as he felt the sloshing contents of his protesting lower belly. 

His hands were shaking. He shivered again and gritted his teeth. This stomach shit had to be his imagination. He couldn't be sick, he wasn't even alive.

Violet must not have noticed his discomfort because she leaned her back suddenly into his chest, tucking her hips between his thighs and pressing herself back against his pelvis. She was soft and warm and he was so cold and so hungry for her. Tate ignored the uncomfortable pressure in his stomach and pulled Violet tighter against himself. He bent his head to kiss her neck, his free hand traveling just below the waistband of her pants. She moaned softly in encouragement and twisted her fingers into his hair.

Tate's stomach lurched and without warning he released a queasy burp into the soft skin of Violet's neck. He whined softly and she turned to face him, placing one of her hands on each of his cheeks and pulling him into a deep kiss. He held his stomach while he kissed her, feeling it churn and hitch under his hands. It had begun to ache something terrible. He felt cold chills running through his entire body and his mouth was beginning to water. Oh, fuck. He was nauseous. There was no denying it now.

He shivered as she slid her tongue into his mouth and then he retched against her lips as a dry heave wracked his body. He moaned and tried to turn his head away but Violet's grip on his face tightened and she would not release him, even as she felt his stomach jerk against hers. Tate whimpered and heaved unproductively, over and over, until at last he broke away with a massive wet belch. He could feel hot acid rising in the back of his throat and he opened his mouth for the torrent, but nothing came. Ohh, fuck. He felt so incredibly sick now, sweating and shaking and desperate for relief. He shoved his fingers down his throat.

"Hnngh..." His shoulders hitched and he pushed his fingers deeper, and though he heaved so tremendously that Violet could feel each of his individual muscles working, still nothing came up. "Ohh. Oh, fuck," he moaned. Violet rubbed his back and he melted into her.

"What's wrong?" she asked softly, brushing her fingers through his hair so gently he thought he might cry.

"I'm sick." He dropped his sweaty forehead to rest on her shoulder as he continued pushing his fingers into his throat, harsh gags ripping through his body as drool fell from his mouth. His head was swimming. 

Violet took Tate's hand and pulled it out of his mouth. "Shh," she murmured, resting cool lips against the sweaty mess of his hair. She held him close against her chest as she felt his shoulders jerk and his stomach grumble. "Hey, it's okay. I've got you. Just let it out."

Tate opened his mouth wide, arched forward, and made a miserable "urp." He tried again, mouth opening even wider, though this time as his ass bucked against Violet she squeezed it and pulled him harder against her hips. She kissed his neck and his throat contracted beneath her lips as he heaved once again. He moaned and grabbed her hands and set them flat against his stomach. It felt hot and tight and he whimpered at the touch. "Push on my stomach, please love," he begged breathlessly. Violet did and Tate gagged a few times. "Ohhh," he panted. "Fuck. It hurts."

Violet kissed him again and then pushed on his stomach with one hand. Tate groaned and burped into her neck and Violet walked her other hand up his chest and neck and then gently but forcefully parted his soft lips with her fingers. She took three fingers, pushed them as deep into Tate's throat as they would go, and held them there. She could feel his throat tighten around her hand and his whole body strained and heaved helplessly but still nothing came. She wiggled her fingers around and she felt the powerful heaves in his still-churning stomach beneath her other hand.

"Hrk." Tate shuddered and made a wet sound. "Braaaaak, hnnng, unnngh." He felt something rising in the back of his throat but nothing came. Violet pushed her fingers deeper and felt his throat tighten and release, felt his shaking ab muscles hitch. Tate whined, gasped, and burped. Something caught in the back of his throat and hot thick chunks forced their way past Violet's fingers and dribbled from his lips. "Ohhhnn," he moaned as she pushed her fingers deeper. The mess vanished before it hit the carpet and any feeling of relief disappeared just as quickly. He had so much left to go. He heaved again and vomited weakly, a small hot little spurt of porridge-textured puke that only made him feel sicker than ever. His stomach twisted again and his face went grey. "Violet. Ohhh, fuck, I need the toilet. Now." 

The urgency in Tate's voice was unmistakable and Violet hauled him to his feet and towards the toilet even has he heaved again and released a hot stream of orange bile down his front. "Nnnn, ahh--my pants!!!!" he cried, but it was too late, as his sick stomach contracted and forced fountains of hot liquid gushing from both ends. Violet quickly stripped him naked, finding his clothes already clean and dry again as they hit the floor, and sat him down on the toilet as the next wave overtook him. She knelt in front of him as he shuddered and strained and vomited onto his naked thighs. He lurched forward and projectile vomited right onto the sheer fabric of her shirt and he could see suddenly that Violet's nipples were hard. She could see his dick stiffen with each retch and then soften again as he sank back into nauseous misery, unable to relieve himself.

When Tate's violent vomiting turned to pained hiccups and soft whimpers, Violet leaned forward and kissed the shaft of his dick. He moaned, and she felt him stiffen. She flicked her tongue teasingly down the length of him and he whined and tangled his fingers into her hair. She could see his stomach muscles work as he tried to catch his breath. She took his dick in her mouth. "Ahhh--ahhh." Tate's voice was raspy and shuddery. She sucked and he groaned. "Ohhh." He retched and she saw his stomach contract and she pulled back.

"F-fuck." Tate's voice was dreamy and far-away, chills of nausea and pleasure running through his body. "Please, Violet."

She looked up at him with huge eyes, feigning innocence. "Please what, love?"

He hiccuped and moaned, pressing a fist to his lips to stifle a burp. "Mmm...oh, god. Violet, please. Please suck my dick." 

She leaned forward and opened her mouth, but as she did so, Tate's entire body jerked in a massive painful heave and he belched up an enormous wave of hot chunks and liquid into Violet's hair, and then another, and another, strangled sounds coming from Tate's throat as he choked out fountains of vomit. As it vanished from Violet's hair, it seemed to reappear inside Tate. He moaned and clutched his swollen stomach. Violet leaned forward to kiss it. It was hot and she could feel it churning. He flinched and pushed her back and she stared up at him in wonder and concern, rubbing slowly up and down his inner thighs.

Tate gagged and then vomited a torrent of hot chunks onto his knees. He pitched forward onto the floor and then turned back around with another heave, back arching as his mouth opened wider over the toilet. Violet leaned herself over his back and held him up, feeling the heat coming off him as his sweat soaked into her clothes. He shivered, spitting out groans and thick saliva but no vomit. But he could feel it coming. His stomach was churning violently, he could feel it hot and tight under his sweaty hands. He was about to be sicker than he'd ever dreamed and he was losing all control. "Ohhhhnn. Oh fuck," he moaned through gritted teeth as he let his forehead fall to rest against the cool porcelain of the toilet seat. His stomach hitched under his hands but he didn't even bother to lift his head, sure now that relief would never come. He burped weakly. Ohh, it hurt. He was so nauseous he couldn't believe it. 

Violet offered him water and he drank it, glass after glass, and felt sicker and sicker the more he filled himself up. He was desperate to get it back out.The room spun beneath him and he slid back from the toilet and tucked his head between his knees. He shoved his fingers down his throat, rocking his whole body weight into them and desperately stimulating his gag reflex. "Brrrrk. Mmmm, ohhh. Ahh, ahhh, Violet, I--" She kissed the back of his neck as he gave a great heave. He gave another. He shook from the effort. "Hrrrk.....bluuuuueeergghjjllllk."

It was like a dam had broken. A firehouse of stomach contents burst from Tate's mouth and nose and ass, his whole body shaking and clenching as the sickness poured out of him.

"Brrruuuugggghhk," he heaved again, burping and shuddering as a massive torrent of mostly water rushed out of his mouth and soaked his knees, thighs, and crotch. "Uhnn," he moaned desperately before burping up another mouthful of liquid.

Violet gathered him into her arms and gently pulled him up over the toilet again. He heaved and choked and a slightly thicker stream of puke poured past his lips and into the water. He heaved over and over again, back arching, ass curling under, body jerking violently and releasing deep guttural sounds as his unbelievably sick stomach forced hot streams of puke and shit from his mouth and ass. His throat muscles bobbed as he choked around the heavy puke stream that continued to force its way out of his body. "Ahhh....mmmmnnn," he moaned when he could catch a breath before he retched and burped and began puking up another thick stream.

Violet slid up behind him and put her hands on his stomach. She could feel it heave over and over again, pushing more and more vomit out of his open mouth.

Violet kissed the back of Tate's neck and started to grind her crotch against his ass. He heaved another mouthful into the toilet bowl as her hand found his dick. She realized he was still hard and they both shivered. Tate moaned as Violet began to stroke him, even as more vomit splattered from his throat. He was so fucking sick. Mnn. He whined miserably even as Violet kissed his neck and heaving shoulders again. He had never felt so sick before or, he realized, so turned on. 

Violet pulled Tate back away from the toilet so his next wave of puke splattered onto the floor. Then she slid in front of him and crouched on all fours, he moaned and slid into her from behind just before his body arched violently and he heaved a massive wave of vomit over her back and shoulders. He thrust into her and they both moaned.

He thrust again as he jerked forward to barf more. Fuck, his stomach hurt so bad. Violet moaned and pushed herself back into his dick. His stomach jerked against her back and she moaned as he was sick the next time.

Violet ground back into him, panting and gasping, hands grabbing his ass to guide him as he thrust into her, deeper and faster. The motion made Tate feel sicker, the room was spinning and sweat dripped from his forehead and he vomited again and again, body arching wildly.

"Ahh---ahhh," Violet gasped, "Ohhh, fuck. Ohhhhh, oh, god. I'm so close, oh I'm gonna--" Tate pitched forward retching and thrust deeper into Violet and she moaned loudly, head thrown back in pleasure, twitching and gasping and digging her nails into Tate's ass. Feeling her pussy muscles clench around him as she came was the last straw for Tate and he came too, even as he continued to retch and vomit and shit, every muscle in his body straining as he experienced every sensation at once.

They both sank back at last, panting and exhausted. Violet kissed Tate and rubbed his stomach. She leaned back and pressed down, causing Tate to pitch forward and spew down his front with a sick moan. She clicked her tongue. "Still not feeling any better?" Tate shook his head miserably as Violet gathered him into her arms, stroking his hair. "Interesting."


End file.
